After the Ball Is Over
by William Easley
Summary: This story follows up on "Dancing Queen" as the twins reluctantly go home to wait for their next summer in Gravity Falls. Mabel has goals. Dipper has to deal with what to tell Mom - and what to keep to himself. My 100th GF fanfic! Have some champagne. Wendip, of course. There has to be Wendip.


_This is my 100th Gravity Falls Fanfic. It is a follow-up to "Dancing Queen," in which Dipper was Wendy's date for her senior prom. Feel free to revel or to say "so what," whatever._

 **After the Ball Is Over**

 **(April 10-11, 2016)**

* * *

Time flies, they say, when you're having fun.

That was true of Wendy's prom night. As soon as the kids returned to the Mystery Shack after dancing and talking the whole night away (well, they did talk _some_ , up there in their parked cars on Lookout Point, waiting for the sun to rise), they and their dates, Wendy and Teek, had breakfast with Soos and his family, and then, still early, Mr. and Mrs. Pines came over with Grunkle Stan. Mom said cheerfully, "We need to hurry! We have a plane to catch!"

Just like fun, goodbyes always go by too fast. Dipper went up to the attic bedroom to change clothes for the trip and pack his tux, and Wendy managed to sneak up there for a stolen, parting kiss. "Thanks, dude," She whispered, her breath aromatic of peppermint. "Loved having you for my date."

"I wouldn't have missed it for anything, Magic Girl," he told her. "But you, now—I'm gonna miss you so much until we come back in June."

"Same here. Text me every day. Face-time three times a week, or I'll go, like, completely bonkers nuts."

Similarly, Mabel suddenly realized she might have left some earrings over at the McGucket house. Teek volunteered to drive her back, and they had a chance to kiss and whisper their goodbyes. And she found the earrings. They were right in the pocket of the sweater she was wearing.

A little later, Grunkle Stan drove the family back to Portland in the Stanleymobile, hugged Wanda, shook hands with Alex, and saw them through the security line. He went back to his car grinning. Earlier, he had managed a chat with Alex, and he hoped it would pay off. He would bet that it would. Hey, he was a wagering man.

Oh, the talk they had? It went like this:

"Listen, Alex, Wanda's gotta know about Dipper and Wendy pretty soon now. It's getting' obvious."

"I know, Uncle Stan," Alex said. The talk had come as they got back from the test drive that Stan let Alex have at the wheel of the limousine (actually a classic 1931 Chrysler Imperial Club Car). "I think Wanda will be OK with it. Not a hundred per cent happy, but, you know—OK. She's warmed up to Wendy a lot lately. I always knew Wendy would be a great match for Dipper."

"Yeah," Stan agreed mischievously. "A girl who can tear down and rebuild a car engine—that's just the one for Dipper!"

And the joke went high and fast way up out of the strike zone. "Exactly," Alex agreed in his most serious voice, swinging but entirely missing the point.

"Anyways," Stan continued as they got out of the car in the circular drive of the McGucket house, "if you can, kinda soften her up ahead of time, OK? But don't tip her off. 'Cause it's not our place to tell her, see? It's gotta be Dipper. He'll get around to it. Kid's got a lot of moxie, you know? Only he has to look for it sometimes."

"I'm so proud of him and Mabel," Alex said.

Surprisingly, Stan, who was not a particularly demonstrative man most times, put his arm around his nephew's shoulders and in a voice that sounded a little choked up, he said, "Great kids, both of 'em. You and Wanda did good, Alex. You did real good."

* * *

As for the Pines family, the flight back to Oakland was bumpy—some turbulent air had rolled in from the Pacific—and Mabel used two airsick bags. Her mother, who was in the aisle seat—Mabel was in the middle, Dipper at the window, but asleep after the long night they had spent—her mother said in a worried voice, "I didn't know that you always got so sick from flying, Mabel."

"Oh, yeah," Mabel said, wiping her mouth with a napkin, sealing the barf bag, and ringing for the attendant to come and dispose of it. "Every time. Don't let it worry you, it's nothing."

But Mom clearly was worrying. "I'm wondering if you and Dipper should fly back up in June."

Mabel looked a little alarmed. "Mom! We gotta come back! I promised all my Gravity Falls friends!"

Her mother said, "No, I was thinking the bus—"

"Not the Speedy Beaver," Mabel groaned. "It takes _forever_! Nearly a whole day already gone from the summer by the time we get there! Hey, I have a better idea! Me and Dip can drive up! We'll take turns at the wheel, and then we'll have a car once we get to the Falls!"

"Absolutely not!" Her mom's face was red. "Mabel, there are rules! Until you've had your minor's license for a full year, you can't—"

"Yeah, yeah," Mabel said. "Can't drive with another teen in the car unless an adult is riding with us, I know. But, hey! You or Dad could drive up with us and then fly back. Best of both worlds!"

"That's expensive and unnecessary," Mom said.

"What? Come on, Dip's got book money coming in! He'd buy the plane ticket, I know he would."

"He's saving that money for college," Mom said.

"OK, OK," Mabel grumbled. "But if we can't drive, I still want to fly. I don't mind puking a little bit. It's worth it. Oh, hey, thanks. Bring me a fresh one, just in case, please."

"Yes, certainly," the flight attendant said, taking the barf bag between forefinger and thumb and giving Mabel a glassy-eyed smile.

"Attention, everybody," said the pilot over the intercom, "looks like we're gonna have some bumpy air all the way down to Oakland today, so I'm sorry, but the flight attendants aren't gonna be able to push the snack carts through the aircraft. I do apologize. Meanwhile, everybody just keep your seat belts on, and I'll try to fly the smoothest I can."

"No snacks?" Mabel said. "Boo!"

She drowned out the flight attendant's relieved, "Thank God!"

* * *

The twins took things in turns. Dipper slept with his cheek against the airplane window until they landed in Oakland. Then once they were home, Mabel went up to her room to unpack, didn't do it, and fell onto her bed and into sleep, snoring away while Dipper felt fully awake after only two hours of sleep.

In his room, he kicked off his shoes without untying them, lay back on his bed with his phone in his hand, and face-timed Wendy. "Landed safe," he said. "And I already miss you, Wendy."

"Same here, man," Wendy said, smiling. It was about two in the afternoon by then, and she was at work in the Shack, in her green blazer with the gold tag that read WENDY – MANAGER. "So, I forgot to ask—what day do I circle on the calendar?"

"If Mabel and I are real lucky and get to exempt three final exams, Sunday, May 29. If Mabel or I can't exempt the exams, it'll be Wednesday, June first," he told her. "You can count on that for sure. Fifty-four days at the most."

She grimaced. "Sounds awful when you count it like that!"

"It does. Wendy, I—you know."

"Say it anyway, Dip. Nobody's in the gift shop but me right now."

"Love you, Lumberjack Girl."

"I love you too, Big Dipper."

And they said some more things, but they were sort of private.

* * *

That evening, Mabel renewed her campaign to take the car up to Gravity Falls. Both Dad and Mom said it wouldn't be possible. "It'll be in the middle of the week," Alex pointed out. "And I'm eating up my vacation time as it is."

"Mom could do it," Mabel said.

"I don't like flying alone," Wanda told her.

"Maybe Grunkle Stan or Grunkle Ford could fly down and drive up with us—"

Mom's face took on that _this-conversation-is-over_ expression. "It would be impolite to ask them! They have lives of their own, you know."

So it looked hopeless. That was the twins' Spring Break week, and the next day Mabel moped around the house for a while, and then at the earliest possible moment drove over to the mall to shop for yarn and some other knitting supplies. Alex had gone back in to work—"My desk will be piled to the ceiling," he complained at breakfast—and Dipper helped his mom with some spring cleaning.

"You didn't talk much about Wendy's senior prom," his mom observed as they vacuumed the area rug in the living room.

"It was good," Dipper said over the hum. "It was fun, you know."

Mrs. Pines glanced at him. She was using the vacuum, he was cleaning the sofa. "And you and Wendy danced?"

"Well, yeah," he said. "I mean, not _every_ dance, but, yes, we danced."

As though she still couldn't quite believe it, Mom asked, "With Wendy?"

"Some," he said. "But not, you know, like I said, every single dance." Which was true. He had danced with Mabel once.

Mom kept glancing at him expectantly. Dipper kept wondering if this was the time. It didn't feel like it. The circumstances were mundane, Mom vacuuming the rug and him using the hand-held vac to suck crumbs and cat hair out of crevices in the sofa. They finished that and then Mom ran a microfiber sweeper over the hardwood floors and Dipper followed her and mopped them, preparatory for waxing later.

They stopped at eleven for a snack. "When is Mabel coming back home?" she asked, looking at the kitchen clock.

"You know how she shops," Dipper said. "A purchase of a single item begins with a thousand peeks at possibilities."

Mom chuckled. "You ought to put that in one of your books."

"I may," he said, glugging some cream into the day's second cup of coffee.

She reached over and smoothed his hair. "You should have had a haircut before the prom."

He shrugged. "Yeah, but, you know—busy, with track and all."

She sipped her coffee. "Would it bother you if we didn't let you go back to Gravity Falls?" she asked, out of the blue.

Dipper tried to hide his alarm. "Well, yeah, you know—we have friends up there, and Grunkle Ford and Grunkle Stan are so much fun to be around. Plus, we help out in the Shack. Soos really appreciates that. And he pays us."

"And there's Wendy."

"Well, sure," Dipper said. "And our other friends, too, you know. Gideon and Nate and Lee and Mabel has Pacifica and Grenda and Candy. Lots of friends."

"Are you going to invite Wendy to your Senior Prom when it happens?" Mom asked.

Now Dipper's heart was beating a little too fast. "Uh, maybe. That's a year off, though."

Mom spread some cream cheese on half of a muffin. "I suppose it would be polite."

"Yeah. I'll think about it."

Mom seemed to steel herself. She set the muffin down on her plate and then asked flat out, "Dipper, how do you really feel about Wendy?"

The question came so fast and hit so hard that Dipper began, "Mom, I love—love spending time with her. I mean, you know. She knows so much about nature, and she's—she's great. You know."

"You've got a crush on her," Mom said, but not harshly.

He shrugged. "I guess I kinda do."

"But she's older. She'll be going off to college soon. She'll meet boys her own age. Just don't let it hurt you if it happens."

Dipper thought about that. Wendy was already wearing his ring. True, it was a faux silver wedding ring he'd had made from a silver coin by a blacksmith when they time-traveled to nineteenth-century Roadkill County. True, Wendy didn't wear it on her finger—she'd had a belly-button piercing, and had the ring altered to wear there. And it was also true—though Wanda Pines did not know this—that Wendy wouldn't head straight to college. In fact, she was already taking college classes through a community college not far from Gravity Falls, and she'd pledged to go wherever Dipper went.

"I guess Wendy will probably wind up with a college guy at that," he said carefully.

"Dipper, please understand me. I like her," his mom told him. "I don't mind if you—what do you call it now? Hang with her? But don't get your hopes too high, Dipper. And don't—well, you're mature enough to know what I'm saying. Don't _misbehave_ , let's say."

There was so much Dipper wanted to say at that moment. However, he found he could only summarize it all with an "OK, Mom."

Funny. He could face a monster. He could tend the gravely wounded and the dying. He could fight his way out of a trap. He could even confront his own demons of insecurity, self-doubt, and indecisiveness. He could deal with having a fragment of Bill Cipher, the worst being in the universe, inside his own heart.

But he couldn't tell his mother the truth of what he felt for Wendy.

Not at that moment.

But . . . even when you're _not_ having fun, time passes.

It was just a matter of waiting.

The time would pass. In time.

That day would come.

* * *

 _The End_


End file.
